Scandinavian Gothic

Beneath a giant silver kroner moon, a solitary figure trudged through Swedish
snow. His man-with-no-name trench coat flapping in the wind, a weighty Viking sword concealed within. The sword reclaimed from Gamla Uppsala, the old town, under cover of night. Now he headed back towards the centre's bright lights and noise. Loki was alive- and inside thirty two year old Andrew Featherstone, a settler from the UK ill prepared for Scandinavia's long hours of darkness. Andy had thought that finding a job would be easy and a nice Swedish chick too. They love the English over there, he'd been told. But after both employers and girls he'd tried to chat up had told him yeah, they'd phone him, and not done, he had resorted to booze - vodka - to excess and the state of having hallucinations. The alienation had worsened by the bottle and he was now utterly deranged, possessed by a Norse warrior. "Murder. Pillage," Loki's voice told him - with Scandy accent, but in Andy's native tongue. "Yess, tha's wharr I'll do," mumbled the sozzled Englisher, drawing the sword and watching the moonlight glint across its blade.

Tonight was New Years Eve and people were revelling in the main part of town.
Andy was approaching there from the quieter cobbled streets beyond Uppsala castle. Outside the biggest of Uppsala's three McDonalds branches, Elin Sorensen met her friends Kaisa and Gabrielle. "So which nation are we going to tonight?" she asked them in Svenska, the nations being the local student bars / clubs. "Preferably one without intoxicated old English guys over-trying
their luck," said Kaisa, referring to a few nights previously. "Why did you take his number?" Gabrielle asked Elin. "To get him off my back," she answered.

Loki studied his student ID, which he'd had faked in England, and did not recognise the person. Andrew Featherstone. A cyclist startled him, coming up from nowhere. He lashed out with the sword and the bike toppled to the ground. "Nej!" the terrified granny screamed, but the wild eyed Loki said "Ja," and hacked her arm off, laughing demonically. Her fresh blood spilled on the blanket of snow made that patch of it look like strawberry sorbet. He hacked her other arm off for symmetry.

"He wasn't so bad..." mused Elin. "Just weird and desperate," quipped Kaisa. "Why don't you phone him then?" suggested Gabrielle. "You know what, I might just do that," said Elin, and to her friends' amazement, she took out her mobile phone.

Blood was splattering everywhere as Loki stormed the front of Uppsala train
station. He murdered indiscriminately. His power soared with each victim that he claimed. "This'll teach 'em," the little that was left of Andy Featherstone thought. Now he was Loki - reborn after a thousand years. The New Years fireworks exploding in the sky illuminated his twisted face. When the screams of the dying simmered down this face strained to hear a ringing sound. It was coming from
one of the pockets in his man-with-no-name coat. He reached inside it and pulled out a flashing mobile phone. Bemused by this, he pressed all of the buttons on it until he heard an incredibly sexy female voice: "Hej Andrew, god new year. This is Elin - you know, from the other night."
     "Hej," said Andy, Loki gone - and the massacred out of mind, "I'm glad you phoned. I've been thinking about you. What you up to, it being New Years Eve and everything? You fancy meeting up?"
     "Well sure," spoke Elin, "Thats why I'm telephoning." Andy dropped the blooded sword from his fingers but didn't even hear the loud clang when it hit the ground.
     "Polis!" yelled police- and a barrage of other words, but the Swedish went over his head. Andy continued to chat to the gorgeous Elin - "Where shall I meet
ya?"
     He was bundled to the floor and thrown into a van.
     "He hung up on me," said Elin, disappointedly, to her friends.